“My. Mind.” I stopped short and faced him, placing my hands on my hips. “It’s like underpants, Jethro.”
“Dirty and dark?” He smirked.
“No.” I scowled at his facial expression. “A mind is like underpants because people change them all the time.”
“But you don’t.”
“I do change my underpants all the time, Jethro. And, for the record, I think it’s mighty rude of you to assume I don’t.”
He almost rolled his eyes, but caught the urge. “I meant your mind, Cletus. You don’t change your mind.”
I spotted Shelly over by the basin sink. She was scrubbing her hands. “Do as the song says and let it go. You have your answer.”
“So, you’re bringing someone, but it’s not Shelly?”
“That’s right.” I nodded, stepping around my brother.
“Who is it?” he called after me, bringing me to a halt.
I hesitated, giving him my profile. I shrugged. “She doesn’t know she’s going with me yet.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes.”
His green eyes flickered over my person with unveiled curiosity. “How can you be sure she’ll say yes?”
“She’ll say yes,” I answered too quickly, and then caught my mistake too late. Jethro’s smirk was back.
“Fine. I’ll let Sienna know you’ll be bringing a plus-one.”
“Good. Now leave. You could’ve sent me a text to ask me about this.”
“Yes, but then I wouldn’t get a chance to talk to you about the bachelor party.”
My eyes bulged before I could catch the involuntary response. I stared at my brother.
He’d caught me.
Dammit.
“Yes, Cletus. I know all about the bachelor party.”
Schooling my expression, I picked an imaginary piece of lint from my sleeve. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do too, liar.” Jethro gave me an easy smile, laughing, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Duane let it slip.”
“Duane?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Duane doesn’t talk. How could he have let it slip? Did he do an interpretive dance?”
“No. But speaking of interpretive dancing, I know you’re planning on strippers.” Jethro’s tone was flat and edged with displeasure.
I didn’t laugh, but I wanted to. Jethro had no idea. No. Idea.
“It’s just one stripper, Jethro. I think you can sit through one stripper. Besides, you might learn something. We all might pick up some good moves.” With that I clapped my hand on Jethro’s shoulder, gave him a squeeze of assurance, which did nothing to ease the discontent in his expression, then left my oldest brother to his ignorance.
I crossed the shop to where Shelly was scrubbing her hands, smirking to myself. I wasn’t typically a smirking to myself kind of person, but this situation definitely called for clandestine smirking.
She glanced at me, her eyes sliding to me, then away. “What do you want?”
I opened my mouth to respond but Jethro shouted from across the shop, “I am so afraid, Cletus.”
So I shouted back, “Think of Sienna. She’ll thank you.”
Then I turned my attention back to Shelly. She’d lifted an eyebrow at me. I wiped my expression.
“When do you think you’ll be done for the day?”
“Now. Why?” Shelly moved her attention back to her scrubbing.
“Oh.” I nodded. “Good. That’s good.”
Apparently I didn’t need to lecture her about work-life balance. For now.
“Also, I’m taking two days off next week.” She turned on the water, rinsing the suds from her fingers.
“That should be fine. Duane is leaving a week from Thursday, so if you have any questions for him before you go, make sure you ask before then.”
“Why do you need the days off?”
Both Shelly and I looked to her right, finding Beau with his arms crossed and a thoughtful frown on his face.
I noted that her back and neck stiffened at his question and she tilted her chin an inch, like she was preparing for a fight. She didn’t answer straightaway, but when she did her voice was more aloof than was typical.
Which was very aloof.
“My brother had a baby. He wants me to see it.” Shelly picked up the soap and began scrubbing again.
I frowned at her hands. They were already red from her washing and, from what I could see, completely clean.
Beau blinked at Shelly’s cold response. “Don’t you want to see the baby?” His tone was patient and gentle and surprised the heck out of me. I’d never heard him speak to her with anything but contempt.
She didn’t reply. As the time stretched, I lifted my eyebrows at her then shifted my attention to Beau. My brother continued staring at her profile. Waiting.
Something was off. Something about the way he looked at her . . .
He fancies her.
I saw it, clear as day in the set of his jaw and the complete lack of pretense in his expression. He wasn’t being smooth or flirtatious. But, if I reflected on the matter, smooth and flirtatious would likely be completely lost on Shelly Sullivan. The more I studied the tension between them the more certain I became. If I had to place a bet, I’d even say he fancied her against his will.